Where it all Started
by BlackBaby
Summary: Katniss and Peeta's daughter, Dinatha, is now old enough to be chosen to enter the hunger games. Will she be able to make it through the next 7 reapings, or will she be doomed to repeat her parents past, where it all started? R&R, my first fanfic :
1. In My Blood

I was born with hunting in my blood. My mother used to be a hunting goddess, and it's what helped her survive with her life, not that she knew it when she first started. For years she would sneak out to the woods outside our district and hunt animals. She knew the risk she was taking, she could have been easily caught and executed by the Capitol. She did it anyway, and sold most of her catchings at the Hob. I've only been hunting a few times, my older brother Fabian takes me on occasions, but I always knew it was something I was good at, even when he didn't say anything. I could spot a deer from a mile off and hit it square in the eye. Even Fabian doesn't shoot as well as I do. It's not like I'm bragging, I just feel this sense of accomplishment and a rush when I hit something perfectly. I don't get this feeling with anything else. Like I said, it's in my blood.

My name is Dinatha Mellark. Sister of Fabian Mellark. Daughter of Peeta Mellark and Katniss Mellark, formerly Katniss Everdeen. Both of my parents are victors of the Hunger Games. The same Hunger Games, matter of fact. The year their names were drawn at the reaping was the year the game makers decided to change the rules and allow two victors from the same district to be crowned victory together. My brother is 15, so this reaping will be his 4th. Since I turned 12 last month, it will be my first. My mother is scared to death that the Capitol will find it amusing to rig the drawing and have me chosen. I mean, come on. How great would that be for them to watch? The daughter of two victors chosen her first year in the lottery? My father tries to tell her that since Fabian has already been entered 4 times and he hasn't been chosen, it wouldn't happen. She's still convinced that they have their eyes set on me, or even worse, are rigging it so Fabian and I are both chosen. She feels a bit better that neither of us will have the chance of participating in a Quarter Quell, since that's not for a few more years. Even worse, it will be the 100th Hunger Games, so I'm sure that whatever they have in store for the 24 selected tributes that year is deadly in the worst kind of way.

The day of the reaping comes faster than I can see, and before I know it, I'm pulling a dress over my head, being careful not to ruin my hair. I smooth the dress down and look at my reflection in the mirror. I am shocked at how pretty I look. My hair is down and it's wavy from being in a braid most of the time. The dress is a light pink and the fabric is soft and smooth. I run my hands down it a few times, mesmerized by the feeling. It's not that I don't wear clothes like this often. I have an entire wardrobe full of shimmery, soft, shiny, and silky dresses and shirts and pants. It's just that today, it feels different. I can't exactly explain why, but something about the mood feels solemn. Not like other times when I wear dresses. I mean, I've been to reapings before, but only to see who gets chosen and I stayed with my parents the whole time. I barely even remember most of them, I try to block them out. I do remember the awful fear for my brother, even though I was younger, and I remember the hundreds of people walking in lines, and both of my parents clutching my hands tightly. I remember the silence as the two tributes were chosen and as they go on stage with that awfully irritating woman from the Capitol, Effie something. That's about it. I smooth my dress one last time and leave my bedroom. I walk into the kitchen slowly and find my father and Fabian already eating. A spread of rolls, eggs, sausages, jams and jellies has been set out by our housekeepers. They eat in silence, not even looking up. I guess the fear of a rigging has reached my brother. I step into the room and take a piece of toast from the table. I sit down in a wooden chair across from Fabian. Nibbling on the toast, I let the upcoming events of today sink in. Today is the reaping. It is a possibility, in fact much more than that, I will be chosen as a tribute for the 91st Hunger Games. The realization hits me like a freight train. I stand up so quickly that my chair falls backwards. Fabian and my father both look up and stare at me. I stare back with my mouth hanging open. I pick the chair up slowly and, still clutching my toast, I go back to my room to change. The reaping isn't until afternoon. I need to hunt.


	2. A Source of Comfort

As I lace up my hunting boots, I hear footsteps coming from down the hall. They seem to get louder and I can tell they are approaching my door. I hear a slight knock from outside my room. I was right. I quickly clear my throat and stand up straight. "It's opened." My door opens a crack and my mother steps inside. Her eyes flicker to my boots and back up to my face. I can see the worry in her eyes. I'm told that before she went into the Games, she had beautiful, piercing blue eyes. Now, even when I stare into them straight on, all I can see is fear, and sadness, with worry lines to match. She's only 33 years old, but she may as well be 80. Her life is lived, and now the only way she can live is with a constant memory of the tragic events that made her the way she is today. She puts her hands on her hips.

"I don't think you should go hunting today, Dinatha. The reaping is only a few hours away and the team will want enough time to fix you up." "But mother, I'm already fixed up. I have my dress and my hair looks fine." I gesture towards my bed where I have neatly laid out the dress I wore only moments ago. She sighs, and rubs the bridge of her nose. "You know that the peacekeepers will be extra careful today. They'll be patrolling the entire woods."

"But so will I, mother! I never get caught, and I'll be back in plenty of time for the reaping." Her face softens slightly. I think she may she some of herself in me. Maybe she went hunting on the day of the reaping when she was chosen. "Alright fine, but be careful. And come straight back after you finish, don't stop at the Hob." I nod and smile. She also smiles slightly, but it looks strained. I bend down and finish lacing up my boots. She stands there for a moment, absentmindedly, until I hear my father's voice calling for her. She quickly snaps out of her daze and leaves. I stand up and let out a breath I didn't realize I was holding. Maybe I am nervous. After all, this could be the last time I ever see my family. Maybe that's why she agreed to let me hunt. It could have been a source of comfort to her all those years ago, before her last reaping. It might be for me as well.


End file.
